The Hangover, NCIS Edition
by SylverSpyder
Summary: What has guns, Sequins, women, tattoos, goats, Salsa dancing, mobsters, sharks, babies, flagpoles, cop cars, and everything else you could ask for? No, I wasn't talking about the dictionary. Where else? NCIS, Welcome to Vegas... or wait.. we're in where?
1. Chapter 1

"So," Tony grinned at Palmer, clapping him genially on the shoulder. "Three more days of freedom before you're hitched!"

Palmer flashed a quick grin, pushing his glasses up his nose and running his hand through his hair. "I'm nervous. Should I be nervous? What if I do something cause I'm nervous? What if Breena gets cold feet? What if I mess it all up? Did I remember to get the right flowers? Oh, shit," Tony's eyebrows rose at the expletive. "What if Breena's allergic to orchids?"  
>Tony smirked. "Palmer, Palmer, Palmer... What am I going to do with you? Here's an idea. You take the weekend off, for starters."<p>

Jimmy stopped pacing with a surprised expression on his face. "What?" he squawked. "But... the autopsy on the Commander! and Dr. Mallard! And Breena said if I mother-henned her for another minute, she'd make it possible to get a divorce, and we aren't even married yet! Oh god, we're getting married! Wait, do you think she was serious? I couldn't live without..."

Jimmy jumped when Tony's hand connected with the back of his head. "T-Tony?"

"Who says staying home was part of the plan? Don't worry, Breena already approved, and Ducky may be old, but the Colonel's no match for him, and Ducky's done like a billion autopsies. Jimmy," DiNozzo grinned, going down on one knee. "Could you possibly refuse your best man begging you to attend your own bachelor party?"

Jimmy gaped until DiNozzo rolled his eyes. "I'm not gonna spend the whole damn day on the floor in autopsy, my little Gremlin friend. Just say yes. Don't worry, McGee's coming,too and Gibbs is our designated driver..."

"Gibbs is coming, too?" Jimmy's voice rose an octave.

"Where is Gibbs going?" Both jumped at the sound of Ducky's voice.

"Duck-man!" Tony grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Palmer, meet Gibbs' wingman!"

Ducky grinned and adjusted his tie. "Actually, Anthony, my dear boy, it is the other way around! You know, this reminds me of a time when I was in my first year of university... or was it my second? It doesn't matter. Anyways, so there was this girl, well actually, she was a woman... very welll endowed woman, and I was at a club, well what you'd call a club, with my friend Guillame, very nice French man, had the greatest accent, just marvellous! His mother was a Swede, though, such a fascinating heritage! Where was I? Oh yes, the woman! Madeline was her name. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. So at the time, Guillame was my wingman, per say. Didn't really need one, I was always a hit with the fair ladies..."

Tony glanced over at Palmer to see him genuinely smiling, much more relaxed now.

"So, Tony," Palmer muttered. "Where are we going?"

Tony just smiled. "You'll see." 


	2. Chapter 2

This part of the story switches over into Tony's point of view. Enjoy!

A noise was what woke him, pulling Tony from the ethereal darkness of his own mind. His eyes began to fluttter open, and as soon as they did, he regretted it, as a horrble stabbing pain pierced his retinas...

Damn. My head hurts like a sonuvabitch. I frowned, and winced as I felt the movement pull at sore tissues and bruising.

Without opening my eyes, I struggled to remember the last thing that had happened. was I taken captive? Dammit, this felt worse than any concussion I'd ever had. Shifting a little on the hard, cold surface I was lying on, I struggled to open my eyes, fighting what felt like the combination of a concussion and a hangover from hell.

When my eyes finally opened, they met with unfamiliar surroundings. It looked like a hotel room. a totally wrecked hotel room. The wall-hangings were shredded, there was a sword sticking out of the wall with something... a thong? ... hanging on its tip. I stumbled to my feet and looked down at the tug on my wrist. "What the...?"

My eyes met a pink, furry handcuff, with a hand that was definitely not mine attached to the other end. Holding my breath, I moved the feather boa at my feet to reveal...

"Shit." I squeaked, my voice reaching a pitch I hadn't heard since I was thirteen. Well that was pretty damn unexpected. She was the farthest thing from someone I might wake up handcuffed to...

What was Gibbs' ex-wife doing here anyways? Where, for that matter, was here? Trying to reach as far as I could without waking her up, I stood and glanced around, my head spinning for a second. I shuffled the tiniest bit forward, and my foot hit something soft and yielding. I glanced down just as a moan came from the object I tripped over.

"Boss?" If it was possible, my voice hit an even higher pitch.

"For once in your life, DiNozzo, can you shut the hell up!" Gibbs groaned, throwing his hand over his bloodshot ice-blue eyes to block out the weak light seeping through a scorched spot in the room's Victorian style window treatments.

That's when my bleary, pounding brain noticed something that worried me, and rightly so.

Gibbs had stubble. And not just five o'clock afternoon shadow stubble. He looked like he had spent a weekend in Mexico with Franks. But, I reminded myself, Franks is dead. I repeated it quietly out loud. Sometimes it was easy to forget. Franks, Paula, Janny, Kate... It was easier to believe they were alive.

"Anthony, my dear boy, can you tone it down a little?."

Ducky's voice just came from the figure in front of me, on the damn couch! Another voice interjected and a hand reached out from the blankets behind Ducky, pulling him closer. It was a voice I'd recognize anywhere. Tobias Fornell. "Come back to bed, honey," the sleeping agent cuddled closer.

"What the hell happened last night?" My eyes widened as I caught sight of what Stephanie was wearing. The only thing she was wearing. It was a gift-shop style shirt, new, still with crisp creases. Welcome to Thailand, it read. "And can someone tell me what the fuck we are doing in Thailand?"

A mass groan responded, multiplied by the half-naked form I just now noticed sprawled over the top of the piano in the corner of the huge room. And all thoughts of Thailand were replaced by a mentally scarring image of McGee, his tighty whiteys barely covered by a sequined strip of fabric and... Dear god, were those stilettos on his feet? At least they were Gucci and I could take solace in the fact that he was cross-dressing in style.


	3. Chapter 3

"What the hell are you doing with my ex-wife, DiNutzo?"

Tobias Fornell had not woken up in the best of circumstances. For one, he had the worst fucking head ache he had experienced since the time he tried to outdrink Gibbs with bourbon after the divorce. For another, the nice warm body he had woken up next to was not a hot woman. Nor, for that matter, was it a woman. All in all, those things alone would have made for a bad experience, but a bad experience became emotionally traumatizing when that warm body was Doctor Mallard, and traumatizing became scarring-to-the-point-that-I-might-actually-need-a-shrink-and-I-fucking-hate-shrinks when he looked down to see DiNozzo. O.K., so maybe the handsome Italian agent s face alone wasn t warrant enough for a breakdown, but the fact that said Italian agent was handcuffed- Oh God, was that pink fur?- to his ex-wife made the experience a whole hell of a lot worse.

After his rash exclamation, Fornell winced and found himself wishing he had maybe been a lot quieter. This hangover was a bitch.

DiNozzo however, didn t seem to have noticed. He was staring open mouthed at something just out of Fornell s field of vision. Gibbs, who Fornell had just noticed was lying on the floor seemed to also have noticed his SFA s confused expression and had risked his own glance.

"Hi, McGee," Gibbs croaked, then stumbled to his feet. "Nice heels. I m gonna go head the hit... hit the head." The man shambled off in the other direction.

Fornell stared after him.

Suddenly a voice rang out from the other room. "Tony, Why s there a dead guy in the bathroom?" A weird laughing noise followed that revelation. "There s a dead guy in the bathroom. Stupid corpse smells like shit... Holy shit! There s a dead guy in the bathroom!"

Fornell s eyes popped back open and he shoved Dr. Mallard away. "There s a dead guy in the bathroom?"

On the piano, now unfortunately visible, McGee spoke. "The pope... holy shit... I got it." His giggles broke off into the soft snores of sleep. "Got it and shot it... yep, we shot it.."

Fornell raised his eyebrows then winced, everything hurt.

"Fornell, what the fuck happened to your face?" Tony exclaimed.

Grabbing a piece of broken glass off of the floor by his feet, Fornell gasped at his reflection. "Why is there an international gang sign tattooed on my face?"

McGee once more offered a startling bit of insight. "Might s'well go all out on your first tatt, Fornal... Foreskin... Fornelly... I got my first tatt on my ass, Nelly . It s a... a..." Here he trailed off with a snore, apparently passed out again. While Fornell had been distracted by McGee, Tony had reached a horrible deduction in the depths of his befuddled mind.

"Where s Palmer?"

As everyone was caught up in the fact that Palmer was missing and that there was a dead guy in the bathroom, Ducky began to wake up again, and as he did, he rolled over and hit the remote. The half-shattered flatscreen tv flickered to life and the new channel came on.

The voice of the news anchor cut through the room. "There is still no word on the robbery of the Royal Bank of Scotland Group, though the only witness has reported that the men all sounded like Americans and that she heard gunshots before she took cover behind a nearby car. It is still unclear what has happened here..."

Ducky had taken that time to pull himself carefully to his feet. A muffled thump rose when something fell out of his pocket. Looking down, Ducky s eyes met with a crisp stack of one hundred pound notes. A second one rolled out from the blanket when he jostled it as he moved away from the couch.

"Well, Anthony my dear boy, this certainly complicates things."

Tony s shocked exclamation was cut off almost immediately by the sound of a baby wailing.


End file.
